The Last Day
by IAmARaspberry
Summary: I wrote this for my English Class and thought I would publish it on here. It is based on Hazel and Augustus, however I did not mention names and I changed a few details. I do not plan to add to this story.


I knew it was the last time I would see him. That day was inevitable, the day that everything turned into oblivion for him… But it came too soon. Our little infinity was not enough for either of us and now, as I lay here whilst the liquid in my lungs is drowning me, suffocating me slowly, all I can think about is him and that last day that I spent with him. The day that I held him in my arms as he slowly slipped away from me.

I remember that day so vividly; he is the only thing that I can remember clearly nowadays, as my days slowly run short. He's there in this sterile room with me, even though it is impossible and he is whispering softly in my ear… I know I'm the only one who can hear it because its almost impossible to hear anything above the whirring of the machine that's pushing air in and out of my lungs that suck at being lungs.

"You're going to be okay, we'll be together again soon," he whispers in my ear and I am reminded yet again of that last day we spent together. I want to say something back but I don't, because a) I can barely breathe and b) I know it is impossible that he's there and it's probably my brain going crazy from lack of oxygen. Also, I can hear my parent's soft sobs through the loud noises of the machines and I don't need them to hear my desperate croaks.

I could almost feel the pressure of his hand in mine as he sat on the edge of the plastic chair beside my bed, which was also the current home of the tattered converse shoes that I knew were his favourites. Both of them have his name written on the rubber toe of the shoe in his favourite black sharpie, and although I wear them almost everyday, his name has not faded, just like he has not faded from my heart in the three months that he has been gone.

"You still have those?" he says softly as he smiles his slightly crooked smile. "You know they're my favourite" I think I can see his hand brush along the black sharpie name, but my vision is blurry, so I can't tell. He looks strong; he looks like he was before the battle, before he was ripped from my arms. He looks so much unlike how he was on that last day, the day when I laid with my arms wrapped around his bony frame, how he looked when I was still lying there with him long after he was gone…I couldn't let go. I wonder if he remembers that day. Suddenly, I am pulled back into unconsciousness again, but even in sleep, I can still feel his presence there and smell his musky scent.

I dream of that day, it feels like I am almost there.

I had my arms wrapped around his frail body, my head resting gently on his shoulder. I felt like I would break him if I put too much pressure on him. His breathing was shallow and laboured. It had been like this for a few days and he had struggled in and out of consciousness, just like I am now. I stayed with him for the whole time, because I knew that our little infinity was coming to an end.

"I love you," I whispered, I wasn't sure if he was awake or asleep but I knew that it was the last time I would see him and it needed to be said at least once more.

"I love you and I always will. And you're going to be okay, we're going to grow old together and we're going to live in Amsterdam and you can become a writer, and…" I was interrupted by him giving me a weak kiss on the cheek, it was then when I realised that I had been crying. He lifted his frail hand and brushed it along my cheek, his hand was cold against my skin that was hot with tears.

"We're going to be okay. Okay?" his voice was weak and raspy, but the fact that he was talking gave me hope.

"Okay." I whispered back to him.

"Read me a poem… please." He often asked me to read to him when he was conscious.

I went to climb out of the bed to get a poetry book, but he kept hold of me with all of his strength.

"Don't leave me," he begged weakly. I couldn't deny him anything that he asked me, not now, not ever. So I resolved to make up a poem, he was likely to become unconscious again, so he wouldn't know any difference.

_(insert poem here)_

I finished the poem and he slowly opened his eyes, taking in a deep breath.

"And you said that you couldn't write poetry."

I slowly regained consciousness when a machine starts beeping loudly… It was time. I can hear my mother crying and begging me.

"Please don't go, you can't leave me, please!" I assume my father was comforting her, because I can hear his voice soothing my mother.

"Shh, it'll be okay, she'll be alright."

What is it with everyone saying that 'It'll be okay.'? Clearly it will not be okay, nothing is okay in the end. My eyes glanced over at the chair… He was gone, but I could still catch a whiff of his scent. The beeping became louder, it's hurting my ears…. Everywhere hurt. I try to take in a breath but I can't, there's too much fluid in my lungs. I close my eyes, drifting off into oblivion. I can still hear my mother's begging, which makes me feel bad for finding the nothingness comforting.

I can vaguely hear the Doctors trying to stop me from slipping away.

"Drain her lungs quickly!"

"Increase her oxygen intake!"

"We can save her."

"She needs more chemo!"

But I block them out, I don't want to continue going through the pain, this nothingness feels like a big blanket on a winter's day, warm, fluffy and comforting.

The noises fade and I can finally breathe. At the end of the dark tunnel, there is a door and I slowly open it. Standing there with his crooked smile is him. I throw my arms around him and I can't believe how real he feels… He is no longer sick, and neither am I.

And that was when our little infinity started again.


End file.
